The thought of an afterlife is one that had stumped many people. Everyone had their own beliefs. Some believed in heaven and hell, other in reincarnation. It didn't matter what they believed in, mostly because they were wrong.
People have spent hundreds -if not thousands- of years trying to figure out what happens after death. People coming back from dying for just a few second saying the "God" exists, or is female. People who swear they've seen hell or heaven. People who say that they've been reborn and remember their past lives.
You've just died. Sorry to tell you. It doesn't really matter how. If you want to spend time making up how you passed, whether or not you saved someone by jumping in front of a car, took a bullet for someone you cared about, something heroic like that. Or, if you prefer, you can think you died peacefully in your sleep. Whatever floats your metaphorical boat. Point is, you're dead.
You're faced with a room. This may sound cliche, but bear with us. The room you're in is pink. Pale pink, with little bits of other shades, like magenta and salmon. There were bits of blue around, purple and yellow too, but mostly it was pink. You'd only ever seen this much pink in movies.
The curtains were a simple solid pink with bits of lace at the tops and ends, there was a chest in the corner of the room, looking rustic and medieval, like something you'd find in a castle. There were toys sticking out of the top of it, overflowing onto the floor. There were bits of clothes around the room, toys mixing in with them on the floor around a beautiful canopy bed in the middle of the room.
You go to the window and look out it. It was sunny outside, in a neighborhood that you didn't recognize. Your first instinct was to panic. Where were you?
"Are you coming?"
You jumped at the voice. Turning around quickly, you found yourself faced with the owner of the room.
It was a little girl. Dressed in a pretty princess dress, completed with a tiara and magic wand. She smiled at you, showing the fact that she was missing her top front teeth. Her blonde hair was up in pigtails. She really was adorable.
"Me?" You asked.
"Of course! Who else is going to play with me?"
It was then that you noticed that in the middle of the room, was a little plastic table, covered in colorful teacups. There was a teapot in the middle of it, little bowls with apple slices. It was tea party.
How did you get here?
"What's your name?" You asked the little girl as you sat down on the plastic chairs that were much to small for you.
She was maybe three years old, her voice was soft, but loud enough for you to hear. You wondered for a moment where her parents were.
"I am Sara!"
"And why am I here?" You asked. You didn't think she'd be able to answer the question properly, but it was worth a shot anyway.
"To have a Tea Party! That's what friends do!"
You glanced up at her dresser, and saw the mirror. You saw the table, the chairs, teacups and teapot. You saw Sara, and looked to where you should be. But you weren't there. Why weren't you there?
The tea party continued, and you found yourself having a really good time! Sara had begun to call you Kitty, for some reason. You didn't really mind, thinking that it was cute. And it was probably easier for her to say than your real name.
But, eventually, Sara's parents came in.
They walked in, dressed in business suits, looking happy, but tired at the same time.
"Sara, come on, we're going to go get dinner." Her mother said.
"But Mummy, I am having tea party!" She explained.
"You can't have a tea party by yourself." Her father told her.
"I'm not! I have Kitty."
"Sara" Her mother laughed "Why don't you tell your imaginary friend it's time to go home and then we get dinner."
Imaginary friend.
Imaginary Friend
Imaginary Friend
That's why you couldn't see yourself in the mirror, that why her parents couldn't see you. You were only visible to Sara.
That's what happens after death. You become an imaginary friend.
Oh my, this story reminds me of my imaginary girlfriend when I was younger. We also had tea parties! What a cool idea that we become an imaginary friend after death !! Thanks for sharing this :)
Arghhhh. It’s a horror story 😄
I think I’d hate to be someone’s imaginary friend. It would be like being a doll.
I’m TRAPPED!
😄